The End of Her World
by TheUptownGirl
Summary: (Formerly 47) Sydney's life has always been filled with ups and downs. But now, at what she be the high point in her life, she is faced with a horrible decision that will lead to the death of someone she loves the most.
1. Why Are We Living Life This Way?

A/N: This is the sequel to AND THE BLUEBIRD MAY FALL (but you really don't need to have read it to understand Forty-Seven). The ratings gonna jump back and forth from PG to PG-13. Lemme just explain how this is gonna work! Next chapter, we'll find out what exactly the mission was, with more references to 47, of course! And the chapter after that, one more major event happens before jumping to the future, where Sydney and Vaughn are married with a daughter, Portia. That's where 47 really beginnings come into play. There's plenty of action and adventure with more Syd/Vaughn romance as well as some interesting scenes between Jack and Irinia plus a there are two or three new characters, one that will change Portia's life, one that will change Weiss's life, and one that will shock the entire Bristow/Vaughn family. I know the whole "Syd and Vaughn have a baby thing" has been done before but I can definitely say that it has never been done like this and you'll be in for more twists and turns and ups and downs than a roller coaster. Sounds intriguing? Well, just read and review!  
SD-6 was not destroyed.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn were not together.  
  
There was a mission that went horribly wrong.  
  
And she was left with a broken body and spirit  
  
With no one to pick up the pieces.  
The light powder flew in her face and created an uncomfortable paste on her forehead. Her hands move quickly and deadly against the black bag as her thoughts rambled through the events of the day and weeks prior to all of this. She was angry and as much as she tried to fight it, this wasn't a place for anger. She needed to go home and cry or do something but she couldn't bring herself to leave the area. As far as she knew, most of the agents were packing up and going home to their normal lives to only wake up again and go through the front doors of the CIA headquarters. But not her. Oh, no. She was forced into hiding on day one of her CIA job, being part of the real CIA and she wanted nothing more than to be a normal part of the State Department. She knew that she wasn't suppose to be there. Her life was in danger by being there. Her fists flew more rapidly now at the bag and each punch hurt a little bit more inside the heavy boxing glove. She was sure that her knuckles were raw with blood and exposed skin. Every ounce of sweat pouring down on her body reminded her of the blood she had felt..the blood on her hands. She punched the bag once more and felt a figure come upon it.  
  
"Hey." He cooed softly, "How are you doing?"  
  
She couldn't stop. If she stopped, reality would set in. She would be forced to deal with everything that happened. With their deaths, with his murder and her suicide. She would be forced to come to reality with her relationship and her lies. "Fine." She kept swinging, not bothering to miss a beat with conversation.  
  
He sighed, completely unsatisfied with that answer. He was dressed in his gym clothes, sweat drenched from his run and doing his weight training. Michael Vaughn had been there for hours now and was on his way home, to be with girlfriend but as he saw Sydney in the corner, all of the plans were dashed. He couldn't leave her when she was like this. "You wanna spar?" He knew that if he left her there she was going to self destruct. He leaned into the bag a little bit and put his taped hands on top. He had beat the crap out of another punching bag then moved to go running on the treadmill and somewhere in the midst of it all, spotted Sydney. He had attempted to keep his distance from her as she was filling more and more of his mind. Everything reminded him of her and it ached inside for him to return to his girlfriend every night, who was becoming more of a ball and chain than a lover.  
  
A hard punch was delivered to the black bag and she straightened up. "Lemme get these off and we'll go for it." She promptly placed her hand between her finely toned legs and pulled hard, expelling her hand from the tight red glove. Sure enough, the tape had frayed and exposed her skin, which was cracked and bleeding. She didn't care. Her blood was just another liquid. She felt no pain or no concern over the red spreading over her hands. Vaughn jumped into the act and grabbed her other hand. He pulled her glove, taking a slight step back. She looked at him hard with the steel that ran through the base of her eyes. Her face betrayed no emotion and all she could do was stare blankly with a look nothing short of complete concentration. He watched the blood expel itself over her porcelain skin but said nothing. It concerned him more than anything that she noticed and didn't care.  
  
"There ya go." He pronounced faintly. His brow was drenched with and his gray t-shirt was now turned near black in the sweat doused areas. His green eyes sparkled with a fading energy and growing concern for his asset. A slight smile crossed over his lips as he thought the many daydreams he had of them finally being together but he quickly masked it with utmost concern. It was never going to happen, so he should have banished the thought from his mind. The swinging bag became a place for him to rest his body as she scanned everything over, letting her rosin filled hand brush over her forehead and sweep away the stray hairs that had fallen during her stint.  
  
Her brown eyes were clouded over with thoughts from a previous mission that had left too many questions unanswered and too little pieces left out of the puzzle. It had caused strain in her relationship with everyone she knew, including Will and Francie. Life was getting far to difficult for her and all she could do was melt against the terror of the world that threatened to disembowel her on a daily basis. Sydney Bristow was fading.  
  
Vaughn sensed this in her but did want to address it head on. He motioned for her to follow across the gray mats to the roped off area for specialized skirmishes. "You gonna take me, Mountaineer?"  
  
"For right now, let's drop the CIA crap." She snapped out of frustration, pulling her shoulders up and down to relax the tensing muscles. Her neck rolled around a bit and she shook out her body.  
  
He knew exactly how to provoke her, "Fine. Let's get it going, Bluebird." He stopped in his tracks and waited for the response and turned around to face her. Her body kept moving towards the roped off area and she looked around. He stepped up to her and bobbed his shoulders up and down. "Let's go."  
  
"You wanna take it, I'll give it to you." And with that, she started to deliver blow after blow. Something in her snapped. She was at full force and had that look to kill in her eyes. She didn't see Vaughn, all she saw was a male opponent that starred rudely at her and made inappropriate attempts to touch her. She wanted to kill him. Every punch, kick and block had her full force behind it.  
  
"Easy! Sydney!" He shouted at her but he knew in his heart she wasn't listening. She had shut him out since she got home from Sicily. She was a different person that refused to be debriefed and became cold towards the world. She had seen something there that had made her push away from the world. She kept taking shots at him that were violent and meant to hurt and break. More sweat poured off of her brow as she narrowed her sights and did a roundhouse kick to his shoulder, sending him crashing towards the side but he quickly regain his balance and as she set up to do a kick once more, brought her down flat on her back. And she stayed there. "Sydney!"  
  
Her tired body melted to the floor and she landed flat out on her back. Her body landed hard on the mat and she felt bruises begin to form. The mats were still hard and made her body go numb. Vaughn, walked over to her, standing only a few feet away and offered his hand to help her up. Her clouded brown eyes only responded with an unnerving blink. "Syd?" His voice cracked with concern. She normally jumped up and started to beat the crap out of him if she fell. That's if and when she fell. But today, all she could do was stare at him with blankest expression face. "Sydney. Cut it out, you're scaring me." He bent over her and offered a hand. But she didn't or couldn't move from her position of flat on her back, starring up at the swallowing gray ceiling. "Sydney?"  
  
She laid on her back and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes barely blinked and her breath barely moved over her chapped lips. She felt the cold mat beneath her back and the sweat pooling beneath her. Her mind was drifting back to horrible places with all of her training coming undone. Her legs were slightly separated and her arms were flailed out. Her eyes blinked slowly and she starred blankly up at the ceiling. Vaughn quickly came into her view and stood over her. He was talking but his words meant nothing. His perfect rose lips were moving in slow motion and his brow was creased in concern. He offered a taped hand to her but she couldn't move her body at all. Was she paralyzed? No, she could still move her body but it just ached to do so. She could still move if she wanted to but her mind just stopped working. Reality had set in. Her mind quickly flashed back to the last time that she had been knocked down with such force and him standing over her and the threats.  
  
"They died." She said at last and felt herself slipping away from the world. It felt as though her limbs were being tied down, again, and she couldn't escape the heavy material. "I was suppose to save them and they died. It's my fault they're dead."  
  
Everything made sense now but he had to be careful. His eyes looked around the gym in terror and with acute sense. There was no one else there. His toned body leaned over and he crouched down beside her. His hands pulled at her back until she was sitting up, being balanced by his hands. "Can we talk about what happened?"  
  
She looked at him rather helplessly and laughed ruefully. "Ya know, on all the mission I've ever been on, I can count on one hand all of them that have gone SO wrong. And that one, ha, that one takes the cake. I mean, nothing went right at all. It was suppose to be an easy snatch and run but no..he had to make it so difficult. Why is it that every time I get something good going on for me, it gets destroyed," she looked away from him, "or killed. Everyone I love has had something terrible happen to them." She wanted to go on but couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she leaned into his shoulder and sat there complete unemotional. "I wish it was a dream." Her body was now officially exhausted. She loved the feeling on his touch on her raw body. He seemed so stable beneath her weathering body. Her blood was running so cold but his touch seemed to make the spots boil.  
  
Vaughn settled down on the ground more firmly. His body was becoming exhausted too but not the same degree as hers. She leaned into his body harder and wrap his arms around her back, tracing invisible circles there. Her body was sweating and rather gross to anyone else but to him, it was only another part of his job. Actually, it wasn't really part of his job. This was him acting out on the feelings he had bottled up for so long. He was her handler but no part of the job description called for said *handling.* "Why don't I take you home?"  
  
"You can't." She said and Vaughn sighed in frustration. She ignored this and rested her head on his shoulder, "It's too dangerous." Her breath slowed as more of his skin touched his. Okay, it wasn't skin. It was a disgusting old t-shirt but it was like an old tattered blanket that a toddler flat out refuses to leave it behind. It was comforting in a strange sort of way.  
  
"Okay." He straightened up a little more and attempted to catch her eye. The building had completely emptied out and they were the only bodies inhabiting the space. "I guess I'll take you to my house then." He knew that his thoughts weren't exactly rational but it did seem like a logical answer. *Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy works with girl. Girl has hard day. Boy take girl to boy's house. Girl gets tailed by counter- intelligence agency. Boy and Girl run for boy's and girl's life.* Vaughn smirked to himself as he came to the horrible realizations. His life was not nearly as complicated as hers but it was problematical enough for him.  
Reality and life was slowly beginning to reenter her eyes, "No. It won't work," She sighed, "It's bad enough I'm here. I'm going to get caught, Vaughn. I was almost caught in Sicily." The floor felt harder underneath her and she felt foreign in her own form.  
  
He couldn't help but let his eyes get wide, "You almost got caught? Syd, why didn't you tell me?" He wanted to hold her closer and never let her go. He wanted to save her from the evils of the world and take her away from this life that haunted her. He wanted to kiss away her pain and catch her threatening tears with his lips.  
  
She ducked her head for a moment and started to ring her hands together before she looked at him again with teary eyes and simply shrugged her shoulders, "There were so many things that went wrong with that mission."  
  
"We need to get you home." He stated again, not registering her last statement. "You keep extra stuff in your gym bag?" Wig, glasses, clothes, make-up, ID.  
  
"Yeah." She replied simply and pointed across the way to the women's locker room. "I'll go get it and meet you back here?" Vaughn had stood up and turned his back on her and looked across the room like it was going to change or something. He rested his hands on his hips and waited a few heartbeats. Her eyes cascaded over his body, trying to soak in what he looked like. There were very few opportunities that were available for her to really look at him, hard, and analyze him.  
  
"Okay." He said at last and turned around. His eyes begged to ask if she was okay but he knew her better. Even if she wasn't, she would never accept help. He forced his hands into hers and brought her to her feet. Shaking, she got to her feet and inhaled deeply. "Do you want me.." His tone faded off. She wouldn't accept any more help than what she had already received.  
  
With a defiant stride, she walked towards the locker room. She passed the different gray machines that shone harshly in the unkind lighting above. She felt two green eyes upon her retreating form and wanted to smile but she was too depressed to. A sarcastic smirk escaped instead. Vaughn was checking her out. But the hurt from the mission was still there and it still stung at every portion of her body. Sydney Bristow wasn't allowed to be hurt or upset. Everything was suppose to be shut away in little boxes and kept shut. When did the lids start falling off?  
  
She entered the locker room and found her bag, casually thrown near an empty locker. She opened slowly and revealed her usual clothes: a black pants suit with a gray shirt and black heels. Everything was black, white, or gray. The only thing in color in her life, she realized as she dug further, was Vaughn's pair of emerald eyes. She shook her head in absolute disgust. He had a girlfriend, remember stupid? She sighed again and tried to rid her mind of everything that had happened. She quickly found a black tube top with a little handkerchief skirt with a curly red wig and big Jackie-O like sunglasses. Without a second thought, she threw off her powder blue work-out top and threw the spandex material somewhere in the midst of the black bag. Ha, black again.  
  
The running capris went next and the red skirt flowed over her scarred legs. Running shoes were replaced with simple black flip flops. Her hair was bundled up and she was now a red-head. She emptied out her bag and slowly folded everything perfectly. Her work clothes smelled like her perfume and starch, perfectly pressed and in desperate need of folding. Her hands slowly made their way around the material into perfect folds. Her gym clothes came next, soaked with sweat. She placed them gingerly into her bag and followed her clothes with her running shoes. Everything was very mechanical and stiff. If she stopped to think, she would fall into a self made trap. She didn't even hazard with make-up. She knew she would cry with Vaughn.  
  
It only had taken a few to change herself entirely. But she needed a name in case she got caught. Okay, okay. Think Sydney. What would be a cool name? Okay, last name is Tortell..first name is..first name is..Juliet. Juliet Tortell but Jules for short. "Jules" quickly gathered her things and walked out towards Vaughn. She stopped in the mirror and sat into her hip. She gingerly placed her hand on her jutting hip and tossed her hair over her shoulder, "I'm Jules Tortell from West Virginia. I lived there with my mama and my daddy for eighteen years and then I went to New York University with a major in literature and a minor in..a minor in psychology." She let Southern accent replace her dull accent. There we go. She grabbed her bag and pulled it over her shoulder, still feeling the sweat making her clothes stick. She pushed open the heavy door and started to walk across the gym. The familiar swing of her hips was back and the poised turn of her head. As she spotted Vaughn, changed back into his suit in record time, she threw her sunglasses into her hair.  
  
Beforehand, Vaughn had watched her disappear into locker room before retreated in, tearing his clothes off and changing faster than he had ever done in his life. He threw things in his bag, not caring about folding or anything like that. He grabbed his dress pants and hastily put them on, followed by the rumpled white shirt that he buttoned half-heartedly. Honestly, he didn't know that his fingers could move that quickly. He finished and dug into briefcase looking for the one thing that wasn't in his gym bag. He had grabbed his cell phone and dialed an unfamiliar number.  
  
"Will Tippen." A male voice answered with a professional tone.  
  
"Will, hey it's Michael Vaughn-"  
  
"Syd's handler?" He didn't know what to except, "Is everything okay?" The anticipation and dread rose in Will's voice and made Vaughn nervous. "Syd's okay, isn't she? I mean, she didn't-" he gulped and couldn't go on with that sentence.  
  
"No, no. She's okay. She just needs to be um, debriefed and we need to talk some things out about a mission. Just thought I would let you know why she wouldn't be home tonight." Vaughn explained quickly, "So you wouldn't worry."  
  
"Oh." Was the quick and cold response. "Where are you two going? A safe house?" Will was becoming too familiar with CIA lingo.  
  
Vaughn winced, shut his eyes and responded, "My place?"  
  
He could hear the veins in Will's neck pop out and his desire to kill Vaughn increase, "Oh."  
  
"I have to go but I'll have Sydney call you-" CLICK. Will had hung up. Vaughn shook his head and he couldn't really blame him for doing so. Vaughn knew that Will still loved Sydney and knew that it was going to stay that way for a long time.  
  
Vaughn turned his phone off and put it back into his bag. He taped his side, looking for the pager that was always there. He threw his jacket on and secured his gun around his waist. He couldn't take any chances. If he was caught with Sydney at his house, he could be put on suspension, fired, Sydney could be discovered..the list of things that could go wrong just kept going. He shook his head slightly and attempted to banish those fears. He threw his gym bag over his shoulder and held his briefcase in his hands and exited the locker and waited for Sydney. She appeared and looked more breath taking than ever.  
  
"Hey...?" He cooed for the second time today but it was a lead to find out her name. He arched his eyebrows in anticipation.  
  
"I'm Juliet Tortell but call me Jules." Sydney replied, extending her hand and adorning a thick Southern accent, "And y'all are?"  
  
"I'm Michael Vaughn." He shook her hand firmly and didn't let go. Instead, he turned and walked with "Jules" arm in arm out to the parking lot. They walked out of the gym into the parking garage, where she started to look around with wide eyes.  
  
"So where did y'all park?" She grinned and creased her nose.  
  
"Level 4."  
  
"Level 4's a big place." She replied, squeezing her body closer to his and tucked her arm around him. He followed suit and pulled her close. She let her heart flutter for a moment and smiled broadly. A nervous laugh/sigh escaped her lips as she attempted to boxes on the lids in her mind. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she thought her chest was going to explode. Why was she so nervous? It was probably because she had to talk about this thing that she tried to keep hidden for over three weeks now. There was a lot of "stuff" going on in her life and she had attempted to cut her handler out of it entirely. She was in love with him and wanted to fight it as much as possible.  
  
"Spot 47." He smiled back at her. She was absolutely amazing. She had gone from nervous break down to perfect Southern Bell in less than three minutes. "So where are you from, Jules?"  
  
"Oh, I'm just from this little town in West Virginia. Nuttin special about it all! Trust me! What about you, Michael Vaughn?" She tasted his first name on her lips and licked them hungrily.  
  
"Fluery."  
  
"FRANCE? Oh my Gawd! I've always wanted to go there! Oh my G-d!" She smiled and laughed giddily. They reached his car after a few moments of silence. It was black, standard issued but she had only seen his trunk. He unlocked it with the click on his key ring and they collapsed in. "Sorry, I needed to act stupid." She threw her heavy black bag at her feet and starred at it for a moment before looking into his beautiful green eyes that made her knees go weaker than they already were.  
  
He simply laughed, "Yeah well. You made it work."  
  
"Ha. Ha." She put up the wall again. Her elbow rested against the door and her head in her hand. Her eyes flickered again as she caught her reflection in the review mirror. Sydney Bristow was withering away and she was being replaced by these other whores and ditzes. She was never allowed to be intelligent when she went undercover. No, smart women are ignored and they are never looked at twice. *Boys don't make passes at girls who wear classes!* *Men in this world of ours are revered, women are feared or hated.*  
  
It was all this wall came up and she knew that she was almost gone that she heard her mother's voice blaring inside her mind, "I joined them because I wanted a name for myself. I wanted to be my own person. I didn't want to be someone's property but I wanted them to respect me! Do you know what is was like back there? What they wanted me to do? Who they wanted me to become? This, the intelligence world, became my only out. It was the only out for any woman there and I had to, Sydney, I had to or else I would have lived in a shack in outside of Siberia for the rest of my life! Do you know what it is like facing that type of desolate future, Sydney? Knowing that no matter who you know, who you did, you were still faced with that life? The intelligence world was my only way out, Sydney. I became one of the elite. I was the forty seventh woman ever to be accepted in the KGB, the first to gain such upper level clearance. I made it. I beat the odds."  
  
Vaughn had been talking for a while now and she had absolutely ignored him, being lost in her own desolate thoughts. "Syd? You there? You know...you don't have to put up the act anymore. We're safe." He started to pull out and away from the rotting hole that had threatened to consume them both. "Let's talk about this."  
  
"You know," she said softly as she started to buckle her seatbelt, "this is my first time in your car. I've only ever been in the trunk when you stole me away from Kendall." Her eyes bounced around the leather interior. "It's nice." The smile she put on was fake. Everything was an act so tht no one knew what she was thinking. Nothing was allowed to be real anymore. She was an actress and the world her stage. No one would ever understand how degraded she was. She was a hooker, selling herself to the world.  
  
Vaughn pushed his key in the ignition and blushed, "Yeah well."  
  
"I like sitting up here much better." She replied definitely and looked out the window, silently bidding farewell to the parking garage that she never got to see. Her eyes were as wide as a toddler's in a toy store.  
"But you know I don't let just anyone in my trunk." His eyes laughed, cleverly masking the hurt he felt. "Can we talk about the op?"  
  
But something interrupted her reply. It was his blasted cell phone. Sydney watched him with interest as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the phone, checking the calling ID and swore in French under his breath, "Vaughn." He replied in his work tone.  
  
"Hey baby."  
  
"Oh, hey." He said in a less than enthusiastic matter and started to glance back and forth between the road and Sydney.  
  
"What's wrong, honey? You sound distract." Alice softly said on the phone, "Everything okay?"  
  
Vaughn pulled out of the parking garage and onto the highway, "Everything's fine."  
  
"You don't sound like yourself, baby."  
  
"Everything's fine." He repeated again, a little firmer.  
  
"What time do you want me to come over for dinner?" Alice chose to ignore this tone and continue on.  
  
"What?" His eyes bulged out of his head and he looked at Sydney with an expression sheer dread. "Tonight's not good."  
  
"Oh? And why not?" the jealous tone had reentered her voice, "Where are you, Michael?"  
  
"I'm on my way home."  
  
"You're not alone." She could really read his thoughts sometimes.  
  
"Baby-" He started and the immediately cringed. Sydney looked at him like a hurt child. He was on the phone with his girlfriend. She smiled a sad little disappointed smile and turned back towards the window and watched with false interest as they emerged into the sunlight. "I have to work tonight." She couldn't help but let the jealousy and the hurt swell in her body. It was just another painful reminder that he had a girlfriend and he was never going to be hers. She was destined to wake up alone for the rest of her life.  
  
"You're not alone." She repeated.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"That thing with your voice. Who's with you?"  
  
Vaughn looked desperately at Sydney, who had resorted to starring out the window. "I'm with some people from work." Sydney looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm on my way to a meeting." He lied and felt his face grow hot.  
  
"Oh." She replied in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry I doubted you. I'll letcha go to your meeting then. Love you."  
  
"You too." Vaughn replied, officially looking helpless and hung up. "I'm so sorry about that." He said.  
  
"It's okay." She turned back to her window, "It's horrible, isn't it?"  
  
"What?" He was clueless and felt his body beginning to glow red in dread that his love had caught him talking to his girlfriend-wait, wasn't that suppose to be the same person.  
  
Sydney ignored anything odd Vaughn was doing and starting on her little platform, "The lying. It eats away at you until you can't keep track anymore. You start getting your lies mixed up with your aliases. Pretty soon, you're disappearing in a world full of Juliet Tortell's and Anne Ryans. You didn't even keep your lie straight. First you were going home, then you were going to a meeting." He was absolutely speechless. He didn't even realize his critical mistake. "I did that with Francie and she caught me. First I said I was going to a meeting in New York and on my way home, I was coming home from Arizona. And she found the ticket stubs from the Sicily airport." She revealed the first layer of the mysterious mission back to reveal the hurt of a friend. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the sun reflect on her body. "It's horrible."  
  
"Yeah." He sighed, "why don't you shut your eyes for a bit? I'm sure your exhausted from your work-out."  
  
She opened her mouth to protest but promptly decided against it. Her body did hurt and it was exhausted. Her eyes fought to say open for another thirty seconds but they quickly lost the battle.  
  
Vaughn spent the ride resisting his hormonal urges to move the strand of hair out of her eyes or to touch her flawless skin. His eyes were concentrated on the road instead.  
  
The next time her eyes opened, they were stopped outside a tall brick apartment building with perfect little window boxes with flowers adorning the windows. It looked like something out of a fairy tale or out of her dreams. Everything was brick with white freshly painted trim.  
  
"This is home." He said softly to wake his sleeping beauty. His voice was soothing and the worry lines had disappeared from his brow. Watching her peacefully sleep had calmed him substantially.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open and revealed the sight set before her, "This is where you live." A few more blinks set the sight before her in better light.  
  
"This is where I live." He responded with a smile and unbuckled, "C'mon. We better get you inside?" The last part was a neither a question or a statement but anyway, Sydney followed suit and exited the warm little car and her feet hit the pavement of the parking lot. She pulled the rest of her body, suddenly sore and exhausted. He looked at her smiling and grabbed her bag and grabbed his, resting in the backseat. He adjusted the weight on his shoulders and managed to walk towards his door. His body was tired, there no doubt about that.  
  
She ran her hands over her face and mumbled incoherently, "How long was I sleeping for?"  
  
Vaughn had approached and pushed the door open, "C'mon, Jules!" He coached as he entered, carrying both of their bags on his shoulders. For a moment, he forgot how dangerous this whole thing was. She hurried behind him and managed to smile weakly as he opened the second door to the long stair case. He held the door open to her and she walked in, looking up the long, winding staircase that circled over her head. Her mouth dropped open slightly, "I live on the third floor."  
  
"No one you're in such good shape." She managed to gape in her Southern twang. She brushed a fallen piece of hair out of her eyes and stepped aside for him to walk in front of her. Her hands lurched forward to grab her black bag from him.  
  
He glared at her slightly, placing a hand on either one of the bags protectively. It was a gesture to say *not a chance.* "Follow me." And with that, he started to ascend the three flights of the stairs that had become so familiar to him. It was strange to hear Sydney's footsteps behind him.  
  
Finally, they reached his floor. One more door was pushed open and she followed him closely down the hallway to the left and the third door on the right, he slid a key into the lock, turning it open. He pushed the door open and threw the bags on the side of the hallway. Pride began to swell in his chest as he looked at his place. In front of him was the hallway that led to the rest of his area. First door on the left was the kitchen, with a window cut out to see the rest of the living and dinning room. First door on the right was nothing more than a closet. Following down the hallway, there was a small dining room that followed directly into living room. Off of the living room was one more half of a hallway that led to the bathroom and his bedroom. Pride was quickly replaced by absolute dread. He forgot that Alice was suppose to moving in the next day and things were in boxes. The recovery came quite quickly for him as he hurried around the house, tucking random things away. Sydney slowly followed in from the hallway and locked the door securely behind her and just watched him for a moment.  
  
Her eyes were as wide as a child's as she looked around the room, obviously decorated by a man. Things were done in earth tones with both new and used furniture. Actually, they were just well loved and well lived in. His living room there was a beige couch with a brown reclining chair, covered in old newspapers, folded open to the sports sections. Old TV guides laid askew over the oak coffee table set before the television set in the oak stand. A slight smile began to tug on her lips as she entered from the long foyer into the living/dinning room.  
  
There were plants set here and there but they were mostly dying from neglect. A chubby little dog greeted Sydney as she stepped deeper into the house, "Hi. What's your name?" She crouched down and gave the dog a good rub behind the ear. The dog wagged his tail out of joy of attention. The smile still played on her mouth as she straightened up and watched the sunlight stream in from the large glass windows surrounding the living room. It felt warm and inviting as she turned away from the living room on her left and look with interest at the oak table set on the hard wood floors with a forest green area rug.  
  
But the most enjoyable sight was watching Vaughn frantically trying to clean up his bachelor pad, "Vaughn." She spoke softly and her one word made him stop in his tracks in the kitchen, holding a cereal bowl and an empty coffee mug. She looked away from the living area and to the kitchen, connect through the dining room. His body was moving quickly but her voice made him stop dead in his tracks. She rested her arms on the bar overlooking the countertops of the oak kitchen.  
  
"You want to take a shower?" He didn't even bother to hear her response. He set the dishes down and rushed out of the kitchen towards her, awkwardly. It was as though he didn't know how to react to her being in his house. He nodded his head of cornflower colored hair and smiled, abandoning the dishes and ushering her down the hallway, second door on the left.  
  
Her eyes watched each part of the house go by. There were classic photographs all signed MCV hanging down the hallway in black frames with white matting. All the pictures were even in black and white. All shades of gray. Just like her. "Yeah, that would be nice." Her body was tugged along by her handler who was beginning to treat her like she was nine- months pregnant and ready to go into labor any moment. Imagine her going into labor with Vaughn's baby. *WAIT! Sydney! Bad Sydney! Erase thoughts from mind!* She scolded herself and tilted her head down as they reached the bathroom, almost arm and arm.  
  
"Hang on." He touched her arm to stop her and ran into his bedroom (right across from the bathroom) and knelt down in front of his plaid bedspread. She couldn't help but wander in and look at his bedroom. Her sore body rested against the door jam as she watched with interest.  
  
"So this is where your bedroom is." She raised her eyebrows suggestively but it was ignored. His focus was set on something that she couldn't see. He reached deep beneath his bed and groped around to find something. Finally, a look of triumph crossed over his lips as his hands wrapped around the gold paper. He pulled back and sat on his haunches, completing turning away from Sydney. His thoughts were no longer logical and all he could focus on was making Sydney as comfortable as possible. He tore the wrapping paper off and revealed a white box that concealed a white terry cloth robe. He ran back out to the hallway room and presented her with it. "Here." He offered it out to him, "For your shower."  
  
Her jaw had officially dropped open and she had no idea what to say, "Oh..my..thank you." She turned the white terry cloth over and over in her hands as she felt the uncomfortablity, if that's even a word, rise in the house. Her cheeks were becoming flushed and he was starting to get jittery and unable to stand still.  
  
"And I'll get you some sweats and more comfortable clothes, if you want.." His voice trailed off as he motioned with his hands back and forth between the room behind him and the room in front of him.  
  
"Yeah, that'd be great." She smiled a soft little smile, "I'll take that shower and meet you back out in the kitchen." The girly aspect of her mind had officially taken over and was chanting *I'm in Vaughn's house! I'm going to be in Vaughn's shower! Hallelujah!* or something to that nature. Vaughn smiled once more and retreated back into his room. Sydney turned towards the bathroom, already lit by vanity lights and locked the door securely behind her. The bathroom was decorated in black and white tiles. Everything was black. And white. And black. And white. She scoffed at the harsh reality surrounding her but as she started to disrobe, suddenly, the world didn't seem so horrible and closing in. And as she turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower, the world didn't seem like it was going to end that second. And as the sweat began to wash away, the tears started to flow freely for the first time in a long while. Maybe she was fading or maybe, she finally reentering the colored world. Maybe one box had its lid but on the other hand, maybe one just fell off.  
  
NEXT TIME:  
  
"It was probably the ugliest outfit I've ever worn." She laughed a little bit, sinking further into his sweatshirt and feeling his body invisible against it.  
  
"Yeah, but you still looked good in it." *Oh sweet Lord! Did I just say that outloud?* He felt his face burn scarlet red and blotchy. All he wanted to do was to take that back! He had a girlfriend for heaven's sake and he was obviously flirting with the one person in this world that he wasn't allowed to.  
  
His situation of pure mortification only endured as the one person that would kill them both in a heartbeat, managed to open the door.  
  
**************************************************************************** **Okay! So, what do you think? Please review! The more reviews I get, the quicker I update! I take them very seriously so please!!! 


	2. When The World Comes Tumbling Down

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! This is, believe it or not the sequel to BLUEBIRD. First, we flashback to this mission that will given the mystery man at the end of BLUEBIRD 's identity. Flash forward to the present, find out what happens with Sydney at Vaughn's place and then finally, flash forward once more to the future where Portia Vaughn, daughter of Sydney and Vaughn, and our two favorite spies get in over their heads with an international affair that shows the mystery that is 47. So, just bear with me while we sort out this business of the past op and by the end of chapter 3, we'll be back up at the present and by chapter 4, the twists and turns that I love to write will start to show. I'll try not to make my chapters too too long and if they get too wordy or obnoxious, let me know. I take the reviews very seriously and love them!  
  
Just remember there are clues everywhere and at least one character death before the end of Forty-Seven. And I'll give you hints all throughout the chapters....and remember, you think you know but you have no idea.  
  
He walked into his bedroom and sighed rather loudly. The door shutting behind her filled the familiar silence. He was used to being alone and have the void of stillness being filled with only the whimpers of a hungry or tired dog. The green eyes scanned the room with satisfaction. His room was comfortable and he knew that it was okay that she was going to see it or hell, she already saw it. His hands were brought up to his face and ran over the sweat drawn brow and cheek bones. His breath was slow and steady as his heart began to race. This whole thing felt doomed to fail. His house felt as though it was closing in on him, no matter how comfortable it was, and he kept waiting up for the door to come flying open and there would be Alice or Jack Bristow or anyone for Alliance. He shouldn't have brought her to his home. His legs collapsed on his bed and reclined fully to look at the ceiling.  
  
The room felt like it was spinning as his thoughts drifted to places that it shouldn't go. Another deep sigh filled his chest as he sat up, shaking his head in defeat. He needed to concentrate and find some sweats for him and for her. Why was he in love with her? He knew everything about her, memorizing her case file within the week that she first came. Her case number was USS-CI-2300844. She knew that she was trained in martial arts, surveillance, high risk retrieval, firearms, driving techniques, pursuit and evasion, track & field, pilates, linguistics and theatrical arts. She knew too many languages for him to count and she had an R01 molar extraction. He grinned slightly at the thought of her coming up, practically running through an entire supply of pens or that horrible red hair. She could kill him in a heartbeat without a second thought and was probably more intelligent than he would ever hope to be. Probably valedictorian or highly honored. She was so beautiful that he couldn't get that image out of his mind. The crazy thing about it was that the forces that had brought her into his life were tearing it apart and keeping them from being together. Okay, that was sort of a lie. Their occupations and the little thing called his girlfriend kept them from being together.  
His body was forced to a standing position and he disappeared into a walk in closet and found a pair of gray sweatpants with a drawstring waist for her and a pair of jeans for him. An old college sweatshirt was quickly found to complete her outfit and he was now sweating so profusely that he chose a black t-shirt for him. He heard the door open once more and familiar feminine footfall reach his door. He had finished placing the clothes on his bed and turned around to face her, soaking wet.  
  
The white robe was tied tightly around her waist and her hand held the top closed tightly to her neck with her ugly clothes tucked beneath her arm. Her other hand was crossed tightly around her waist as a way to put up another barrier. Her hair was dark from the water and pulled tightly into a braid. Her cheeks were flushed from the scalding water. And now, she stood before her crush's bedroom. A slight smile crossed her lips, "That felt good." She finally said after a moment of starring into each others eyes. He had straightened up and just stood there.  
  
Quite honestly, he didn't know what to do or say after that. He started to stammer and grabbed the clothes off of his bed and extended them out to her. "Here ya go." Their hands touched for a brief instant and she caught her breath up in her mouth. He backed away for a moment, starring at her perfectly painted peach toenails and grabbed his own clothes, "I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll only be a few minutes." He walked towards the door and to the other side of her. "If you want, you can help yourself to whatever you want. Make yourself at home. Grab a book off the shelf, make yourself a sandwich, smoothie, sleep whatever. You can use my room to change into those if you want." His body moved almost as fast as his tongue as he walked towards the bathroom. He finally ran out of room and out of words. He stood outside his bathroom and looked at the floor again, "I'll only be a few minutes."  
  
The smile crossed over her lips again, "Hey, take your time." And she was alone again. Loneliness was becoming something was used to. *If you think hard enough, you can be all alone in a crowd* Her thoughts drifted ruefully. But her head shook back and forth softly, banishing the thoughts from her brain. Right now, she was in Michael Vaughn's bedroom. Only a select number of women had ever seen his Mecca and now she was added to the list, although she wished she could have seen it under different circumstances. Her wet hair still clung to the back of her neck and her body was still rather damp from the scalding hot water. But she was here now and almost safe. It would just take a few moments to get changed, then she would make herself something to eat or drink (even though she wasn't really hungry or thirsty) and she and Vaughn would talk about this like two responsible adults. End of story. She needed to get changed first. She quietly slipped out of his bedroom and found her bag sitting peacefully near his door. Just as quietly as she had slipped out, she walked back into his room.  
  
It was almost painful removing the white fluffy robe from her body. It felt almost as good as being wrapped Vaughn's arms, like she was for a few brief moments. She couldn't help but feel guilty. She was almost positive that this was gift meant for his girlfriend. It was wrapped in pink paper and hidden beneath his bed. She was wearing his girlfriend's gift and then, what was he going to do with it? Wash it and give it her? That would be kind of gross and impersonal. She banished these thoughts from her mind and started to get changed. The clothes smelled just like him. She pulled on the Boston College sweatshirt and then the gray sweatpants. Her eyes drifted towards the closed window near her bed and she caught her reflection. If anyone had seen her there, she would have thought she was one of his new girlfriends who stayed the night and needed clothes. No, if she was his girlfriend, she would be wearing his boxers. Another smile crossed her lips; her in Vaughn's boxers, sleeping in Vaughn's bed next to him. *Knock it off!* Her subconscious screamed in her brain, causing her to blush slightly. That was a rare trait of hers, she could make herself blush.  
  
He sighed a little too loudly. He honestly needed to stop this habit of sighing. He was never tired before Sydney but then again, he didn't know if he could live without her in his life. This was going to be an incredibly long night, afternoon, twilight..whatever you honestly wanted to call it. The water pounded on every inch of his skin as he leaned his hands against the warming wall in front of him. He wished it would cool his mind not his body but no such luck. They had been through so much together. She had risked her own life and her father's life on finding a cure for the virus for him. She sat beside him at the hospital and cried when she thought no one was looking but he was fully awake and aware of her presence. But this was more difficult than he could ever imagine. More difficult than finding out that her mother killed his father or that..that...what could possibly be more difficult than that? But now, this was inhumane to be faced with this position. How was he going to get through this? Alice was probably going to show up unexpectedly. And why the hell did he tell Sydney to make a smoothie? A smoothie!?!? The water was turning obnoxious so he shut it off, abandoning any hopes of being calmed. Racking with guilt and regret, he turned off the shower and started to towel off and dress into his jeans.  
  
She had finished dressing and padded towards the kitchen to get herself something to drink but somehow, she never managed to make it there. She felt as though her body stopped working and all she could do was concentrate on how incredibly comfortable his couch seemed. Her limbs moved a little more slowly now, tense and sore from her hard core bout. But before she collapsed, she glanced at the pictures hanging on the wall and rested on little shelves. They were of a blonde girl and Vaughn, smiling and sitting on a towel at the beach. Another was of Vaughn and an older woman outside a vine covered home. The last picture that stuck out was of a little boy clutching his father's hand outside of a sport arena. And as much as she wanted to continue, the desire to sit down grew greater and greater. She found the couch and propped her head up on her hand.  
  
He finished dressing, feeling more at home and more comfortable and realized with sudden impact how quiet his house had grown. His instincts went into high gear but the logical part of his brain shouted loudly that she was probably just sleeping. Alice didn't barge in and kill her. Sloane didn't find them out and ordered a hit on her. They were safe. They were home. At his home. Him and AGENT SYDNEY BRISTOW. If he were a girl, he would be skipping down the hallway but then, that would given Weiss way too much ammunition for far too many jokes. But still, he couldn't stop the grin that formed over is lips. He made his way to his living room and caught his breath high in his throat. There was Sydney, curled up on his couch, fast asleep. He made his way over, wanting so badly just to take her in his arms and hold her there for a while. But that was possible. He grabbed a blanket off of his chair and decided to wrap her in it. His feet crept silently towards her and his hand was outstretched just to touch her cheek. He just needed to see if she was real. He hovered a few inches over her face, well aware that at any given moment, she was going to wake up and drop him, very hard and very fast. He recoiled his hand back and covered her with the blanket instead.  
  
She felt a soft warming feeling cover her body and she stirred slightly. There was Vaughn standing over her, covering her with a green knitted blanket. He made a soothing sound and knelt in front of her.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry. I woke you up." He replied apologetically.  
  
She yawned slightly and moved to sit up slight, "That's okay." And yawned. "How long was a sleeping for?"  
  
He sat down beside her and grinned slightly, "I have no idea but I've been out of the shower for about ten minutes. So, over ten minutes?" He settled comfortably into his cushion on the couch. "When was the last time you slept?"  
  
Sydney thought about this whole-heartedly for a moment, " I honestly don't remember. I got home from the op and I just never stopped, ya know?"  
  
He shifted his weight once more, "Do you think we could talk about it? The op, I mean."  
  
He watched her chest rise and fall with her deep inhalation, "Okay."  
  
And with that, she began to unravel the tale of the op that went so wrong that would damage her life, Vaughn's life, and her future daughter's life forever. 


	3. And Her Wings Do Falter flashback

She sat in the conference room where she wanted to kill Sloane so much. He sat at the front of the black marble table with Dixon and Marshall. She kept a professional smile and tone. Sloane started to discuss the latest snatch and go but of course, it would never work out that way. He brought three separate pictures of three unique looking people. They were unknown except for the fact that they were former owners of the Rambaldi book that Sloane was chasing around for. He had the entire collection with exception of fourth book, seventh chapter. 4.7, as it became to be known. But now, the mysterious 4.7 was in the hands of the newest player on the scene: Paul Marx. He had the book at his mansion in Sicily, where Sydney would go as a high price call girl, seduce Marx as much as necessary to keep him occupied while Dixon broke into the building and grabbed the book-  
  
"Wouldn't it be easier if I disabled Marx and had Dixon outside as my eyes?" Sydney piped up, gritting her teeth to keep the professional façade in check. Her eyes glanced back and forth between Dixon, who looked relieved and hurt all at the same time.  
  
Sloane smiled his blood thirsty smile, "Wonderful idea, Sydney. Okay, slight change of plans. Sydney, you'll be solo on this one. I think you'll be fine. Make sure you stop by op tech before you go. Thank you that will be all." He left the conference room into his office with the manner of a truly patriotic man.  
  
Sydney looked up from her black folder and into the chocolate brown eyes of Marshall, who looked as nervous as anything. "Hi, Agent Bristow, Agent Dixon. How are you doing today? I mean, the weather is a little colder than we're used too but overall I think it's really nice. I don't seem to mind it all that much. As long as the sun is out, I'm-"  
  
"Marshall." Sydney leaned forward and placed her hand on the table in a sympathetic tone. She smiled softly and looked at Dixon with an understanding glance.  
  
"Okay, thank you, Miss Bristow." He picked up a ring for moment and played it over in his hands. It was an emerald ring set in gold, "Looks like a normal ring, right? There's enough Hal idol in this ring to knock a grown man out for three to seven hours. Just press the stone against any part of his body with a pulse and you're good to go. But you gotta do it hard or else it won't work. Instead of 'night 'night Mr. Marx, it'll be fight fight Mr. Marx." Marshall took the ring, set in a black velvet box and continued to gather the rest of his supplies. "So uh, be careful. I heard this guy's tough but I'm sure being what a wonderful agent you are, Miss Bristow, you'll be fine."  
  
"Thank you, Marshall." Sydney and Dixon got to their feet and started to move towards their desks. And as they did so, she began to reflect on her mission. Keeping her professional tone and attitude, Sydney and Dixon left for their desks, keeping with the typical small talk that they had become accustomed to.  
  
Sydney reclined in her black chair for a moment and inhaled deeply. "Hey listen, you want anything? I'm gonna head out for lunch." She rose, shutting her laptop quietly and adjusted the black linen blazer around her body. She scanned the place quickly, more out of habit than anything else.  
  
Dixon looked up from his SOP papers and shook his head, "Nah, that's okay. I'm meeting Diane for lunch in a few minutes." And he turned back to his paperwork.  
  
"Okay. Have fun." She replied and made to exit the building. She did so rather quickly and felt the harsh dampness of the parking garage flood her pores. This was one of the dingiest places in LA and she had to be there every single freaking day. The familiar two beeps was heard as she unlocked her black SUV and climbed in. She was armed with a black pen and brown paper bag. Time to get on with standard operating procedure! She drove to her typical spot, wrote out the entire operation in great detail, and dropped it off in a garbage tin.  
  
It wasn't until nine that night that "Joey's Pizza?" called and she slipped out of the house, unknown by Francie. The roads were dark now and tails were both more difficult and easier to spot. She blasted the radio in her ears to keep her awake. That day had been a long and extremely trying day. It was harder and harder to suppress her desire to kill Arvin Sloane. She parked her car in the traditional spot and ran, in her running shoes, into the warehouse. She knew Vaughn was expecting to hear her heeled shoes against the pavement but these were much more comfortable for her. She had changed from her black stuffy suit to a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.  
  
"Hey." She greeted as she turned the corner. There was Vaughn, carefully studying his empty hands. He looked so deep in thought that she almost didn't want to disturb him.  
  
"Hey." He jumped up, as a sign of formality and greeted her, "How's it going?"  
  
She didn't bother to a reply but made her way over to him/  
  
"So I read you paper. Your shortest one to date." He sat back down and politely motioned for her to do the same, "You have to seduce him? Another one?" He asked, wrinkling his brow and getting to his feet from the customary crate he had been propped up against.  
  
Sydney found an empty grate and collapsed down upon it. "Yup. Go as far as humanly possible." She repeated the phrase she had heard so many times. "I swear, you would think that I was a hooker." She scoffed at this. She spent more time seducing men and being their 'friend' than anything else.  
  
"Yeah." He laughed ruefully, "I hear that this guy, Marx, is dangerous."  
  
"That's what Marshall said, believe it or not. But hey, name a man that I've had to seduce that isn't dangerous."  
  
"True but this guy......he's notorious for abusing his friends...he once beat a girl with a baseball bat..." He let his voice trail off as he gathered his thoughts, "I'm going to Sicily with you." He said rather suddenly and looked to her for a reaction.  
  
And he got the one he expected. Her eyes bulged out of her head and her mouth dropped open, "You're what? You're what? You can't! There's no way in hell even you can pull this off!" She exclaimed. "What if Sloane changes his mind and sends Dixon?"  
  
"Syd, hold on. There's something that you don't know about. Inside the book, there's a white cording that is needed for one of Rambaldi's devices. Sloane wants you to get the book so he gets the cord. But he can never it get-"  
  
"So, we'll make a replica of it. We've done it before." She responded quickly.  
  
"But we don't know what it looks like." Vaughn countered. "And there's more."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Those three people, Boris and Anya Chesnulatich and Alfred Koslovin, they're being held captive by Marx. They were kidnapped from their Moscow residences and taken to Sicily. They're the three leading expects in Rambaldi, third only to Sloane and then your mother. They're being held captive in the basement of his building. So, you will have to go in and extract them as well. I'll be outside in a van with a medic team standing by." He concluded his little speech and the worry lines started to dissipate from his brow. He had gotten through his entire little speech and now, it was the beloved question and answer period and by the look on her face, she had a lot of questions for him. She had that wonderful sparkle in her eye that proved to him that she had a list. A very long, drawn out, intense battery of questions waiting to be fired.  
  
"Why doesn't Sloane know about this?" She immediately started, getting to her feet. "Why are they being held captive? Are they being tortured? How do we know that-"  
  
"Will you let me answer one question but you ask the next?" She puckered her lips in a feeling of defeat.  
  
Vaughn's eyes were so serious and emotionless. His lips moved through the answers that he had been given only a few hours ago. He had no idea what was going on with this mission and this was just as new to her as it was him.  
  
Flash forward a little bit to the mansion. Sydney walked in, rang the doorbell and announced her arrival. "So, you already?" Vaughn's voice came over her ear, causing her to smile a little bit. She smiled a reply, unable to answer as the door swung open. A man with a pale drawn face answered the door.  
  
"Hello." He greeted and watched her with interest as she started to become Anne Ryan a little more, wearing nothing but a white gauzy halter dress that had a large keyhole from neck to below her navel. It was cut close on either side and from the back; it looked as though she only partially dressed. It was her most revealing outfit to date, if you can believe that one. The ring was placed on her hand, her comm. link in her ear, and other odds and ends.  
  
"Hello, I'm here for a Mister Marx?" She brandished a black invitation with silver lettering from her large white bag. "This says I'm to meet him now..would you tell him that Anne Ryan is here?" She pulled her cherry painted lips into a smile, a false one at that.  
  
The black painted door was pulled open to reveal the white marble foyer with a staircase that looked as though it was taken straight out of Tara from Gone with the Wind. Everything gold and gilded, with a high taste in Italian decor. The man from the door ushered her up the stairs and down the long winding corridors to a bedroom in the far corner. The door opened slowly and there a man with Olive toned skin, black hair, cut close to his scalp, and Devil blue eyes. He was propped up on his bed of white sheets complete with canopy. You would think a man of his stature would be less in touch with feminine side.  
  
"You must be Annie." He greeted.  
  
"Yes sir." She walked into the room and strutted into bedroom.  
  
He propped up his body again so he could see more of her body, "Ah. You're a pretty one. Prettier than the last one."  
  
"If she doesn't kill this guy, I will." Vaughn scoffed to the medic team. They turned away from their busy work and looked towards Vaughn with disinterested looks. "Sorry." He replied apologetically.  
  
Sydney continued, "Well, you get what you pay for, I guess." And she sat down on the bed next to him, setting her bag near the edge of the bed and crossing her legs innocently at the ankle. Her brown hair was covered by a platinum blonde wig that was pin straight and feel to her mid back. From where the halter was tied and the length of her hair and how close the top was cut, she looked like she was partially dressed from the back. The short length of the skirt or the white fishnets or the white Roman sandals certainly did not help with this at all. She completely looked like a prostitute.  
  
"Let's skip the small talk, shall we?" Marx wrapped his arm around her waist, bring her body towards his. His venomous lips began to press against her body as he threw her down on her back, straddling her in the process. "Is there anything you don't do?" His face was hovering inches above hers as his hands groped down to undo her top.  
  
She recoiled slightly, "I don't kiss on the mouth." And that was true. She had managed to go through this humiliating process without ever kissing any of them on the mouth..well, except Noah and that was totally different. She was in love with him or then there was Marshall, but that was different too. As she felt his body rub against hers and him moaning and groaning in her ear. Lord was this man vile. He began to get a little rougher, biting at her shoulders and practically drawing blood around her stomach. She bucked him off and flipped him over so that the she was on top. Her legs were around his skinny frame and she sat up straight on his wire trim stomach. "You wanna go for it?" She started to fool around with the white cording of the top and Marx was clearly enjoying this. And just as the strings began to loosen and more of her was revealed, she started to lean forward on him, pressing and breaking the ring into his arm or his neck, somewhere she wasn't quite sure. And without a doubt, he was out cold in a few minutes.  
  
"Well, at least she's a lady." One of the female agents looked towards Vaughn and shrugged her shoulders. Vaughn smiled humbly at her and waited for the familiar voice to fill the black van.  
  
Showtime "Boot camp, this is Mountaineer. Marx is out cold, where am I going?" She tapped her comm. link and started to tie her dress back up before grabbing a long black sweater off of a nearby chair. She tied the robe, as it turned out to be, tightly around her waist and cautiously made her way outside of the door but not before she grabbed her bag that would later hold 4.7.  
  
"Down the southernmost hallway, down the far stairs to the basement, third door on your left is 4.7, fifth door are the hostages." Vaughn rattled on the information. *That's my girl.*  
  
Sydney did as she was told and was just about to step out into the hallway when she heard a loud groan from the bedroom, followed by a slew of swears. The Hal idol didn't work! He staggered out into the hallway as she tried to sprint for safety but was soon caught by two guards. She quickly overcame them but Marx shouted out for her. Obviously defeated, she turned around, "I hate making things too easy." She replied demurely, playing with the black tie on her robe, "I think it's more fun to work with a moving target." Her hands started to shed the robe in sort of a mock strip tease to no music.  
  
Marx stood in the doorway and glared, "We do things my way." He came up towards her, griped her tightly in his hands, squeezing hard, and then moved to slap her. She immediately pulled away and hit him hard upside the head with her leg. As her luck was going, he didn't knock out; instead he came at her with more punches, kicks, and unfortunately bites. She fought back hard though and within a few punches, he was knocked out. She grabbed the tie from her robe and bound his hands through the hinges of the door, gagging him with his tie that was loosening around his neck.  
  
"Mountaineer, do you copy? Is everything clear?" Vaughn's voice blared over her head as she fought but as she finished tying up Marx, his tone turned more to what she was used to hearing, "Sydney!"  
  
"I'm okay. Hal idol didn't work." She replied, slightly out of breath. Confidant that Marx was no longer going to bother her, she made her way down the hallway and down the stairs. The book was relatively unguarded and easy to grab. With it stored tightly away in the bag, she made towards the hostages. "Mountaineer to Boot Camp-"  
  
"Mountaineer to Boot Camp?" a familiar voice repeated.  
  
She really didn't want to turn around. No, she absolutely dreaded turning around. "Dixon?" Her voice wavered.  
  
Okay! So what do you think? PLEASE REVIEW! 


	4. Knots and Ties That Bind flashback

A/N: Thanks for reviewing and I apologize for my language towards the end of this! I swear once or twice! But please read and review!  
  
"Dixon? What the hell are you doing here?" Sydney rushed towards him, dressed in a black suit with black rimmed glasses on.  
  
"Sloane sent me at the last minute. They found three Russian KGB agents in the basement and we have to bring them in. We didn't have enough time to get you in the info, so he sent me."  
  
She brought her hand up to her ear, "I can't believe he sent you, Dixon." She over pronounced each word so Vaughn would get the message.  
  
"Shit." Vaughn gasped and turned to the rest of the crew in the van, "We need to get out of here." He turned back around and spoke clearly, "Syd, we're getting out of here so don't worry about that. You're gonna have to give Sloane 4.7 and just concentrate on getting the hostages. You need to save those people. Marx WILL have them killed."  
  
"-and Sloane wants you to still grab the book." Dixon completed his speech, overlapping on Vaughn's.  
  
Sydney's eyes had grown wide with disbelief but now were coming back down to normal size. She adjusted the robe around her body and nodded affirmatively towards Dixon. "I already got the book." She motioned towards the bag that she was tightly clutching, "Are you sure that they're KGB?"  
  
"Sydney, who were you talking to? You said 'mountaineer.' Last time we went out, you were 'bluebird.' And besides, Sloane doesn't have you on a comm. link." He reached back and touched his gun, reassuring himself that it was there. His eyes were tight with suspicion. His distrust was evident in his body language and he was ready to shoot her, if he thought she was a double agent.  
  
Vaughn sat in the truck moving away from building, coming up with this story, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities on my own." He turned towards the other agents, who were breathing a sigh of relief, "We're not out of the woods yet, people."  
  
Sydney sighed and looked at her feet for a moment, a trait she had picked up from Vaughn, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities of me on my own." She recited, twisting the last phrase slightly. "He didn't want me to tell anyone because he thought it would undermine my position." She stepped forward towards her partner and whispered this information softly, in fear that anyone would pick up on it. "Now," her voice firmed up slightly, "I should give you 4.7, so you can get out of here with it safely. I'll go and get the three agents. Now, where am I going?"  
  
He took a moment to register this information and his chocolate brown eyes still were masked with disbelief and partial concern. His chest expanded slowly and he finally nodded, "Okay."  
  
She reached into her white bag and retrieved the battered book and handed it from her milky white hands to his chocolate brown ones. She tried to feign a look of trust and happiness but she could tell that he wasn't completely convinced, "Second door to the right."  
  
Sydney smiled a professional smile and bolted towards the door. The door was only a few feet from where they had previously stood and she pressed her hands against the doorknob and opened slowly, surprised it was left unlocked. She slowly pushed it open, expecting something to happen but there was only silence. No guards, no alarms. Just horrible silence. The door was pushed open more and inside was revealed a white room with bright lights turned on. It took a moment for her to adjust to the lights blinding her eyes and it was a moment too late. She didn't know what was happening or what had happened or anything of even that nature. Her own breath started to escape her at a rapid rate. Each gasp was harder and harder. She reached up for her comm. link, "Oh G-d." She muttered. And then silence. She just heard a the door shut from behind her and with her last remaining bit of consciousness, she felt her own body drop to the ground. She fought hard to keep her eyes open and stand up but it was impossible.  
  
"Sydney? Sydney? What the hell is going on? Come on, Sydney! Answer me!" Vaughn's voice boomed in her ears and it was impossible for her to answer. Her body had melted from the strange clear gas that was filling the room.  
  
Everything was dark and quiet, too dark and quiet. "And the fabulous Miss Bristow is taken out at the knees." A chilling voice awoke her from her less than peaceful slumber with a sudden flicker of a blinding exposed lights. She forced her eyes to flutter open to find to her horror being strapped down to the cold hospital like table with a twenty-two year old male standing over her. Her disgusting gown had been replaced. She was now stripped bare of her disgusting outfit and replaced with a hospital like gown with her natural hair exposed. The feeling of repulsion swept over her as she thought of Sark undressing her and changing her. Her body shuddered inwardly at the horrid thought.  
  
"Let me up, Sark." She barked and pulled at her chains that her bound her arms and legs so tightly.  
  
"Ah, Miss Bristow does not like to be bound, I see." He replied again stepping away from her and letting the bright light invade her eyes. "But you see, I cannot let you up. My employer has sent me on a mission, one that I cannot leave unfinished. And one more unfortunate news for you, I cannot possibly let you up." He rested his hands on the cold aluminum table, letting his black suit wrinkle slightly at his joints.  
  
"You worked for my mother, Sark. She's gone. Now who the hell are you working with?" She snarled and fought against the chains once more. This time, she felt blood ooze from the restraints. She took to a quick inventory of her body. Was there any more pain from any other part of her body? No, she was almost positive that she was only bleeding from her wrists and her ankles, if that.  
  
Sark smiled politely and began to walk to the other side of the room, "Now if I told you, would you join me? I could actually use another set of hands in finishing in this." His flat shoes were muffled against the cold floor.  
  
"Go to hell." Her words matched the temperature of the room.  
  
Sark smirked, "I suggest closing your eyes. This could get a little ugly. I don't want to offend you. But then again, we can avoid all of this mess, Miss Bristow."  
  
"Go to hell." She repeated again, not bothering to push against the metal chains that bound her.  
  
He clicked his tongue in remorse, "Tsk tsk, Miss Bristow. Let's just cut the chase before you can tell me where I can go. Now, you know and I know that you took something of value to me." He paused for a moment walked to the far end of the room, out of her sightline. He started to fumble with something and after a moments of foreign sounds, he reappeared in front of her, holding a woman by restraints. She was obviously weak and was previously tortured. Her brown eyes looked at Sydney's rather dimly and her olive toned skin was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her breath was barely there and her eyes started to role back into her head as she fought to keep consciousness. "Miss Bristow meet Anya Chesnulatich."  
  
"What the hell are you doing, Sark?" Her senses became heightened as she noted the poor condition of Anya.  
  
"Where is 4.7, Miss Bristow? I know you took it from me, so please do not bother me with trying to deny it. Please cut the case. I get bored rather easily." He snorted in the thought of being so bored by one of Sydney's explanations.  
  
She drew her breath rather slowly, as if debating whether to tell him or not, "I don't have your precious little book, Sark."  
  
Sark looked generally disappointed as he adjusted Anya's chains in her hands, "I never understood why Irinia never recruited you to her organization."  
  
"You know the answer to that, Sark." She hissed back.  
  
He sighed gently, "You have a choice, Sydney. I can kill all three of these innocent people, not KGB members, but innocent people or I can kill you or you can tell me where 4.7 is."  
  
Sydney didn't know what to do. Her only thought was why Vaughn had rushed in here to save her or why Dixon wasn't strapped next to her. She didn't even bother to think about the innocent life hanging in the balance in front of her. Her thoughts were irrational and unsteady. *Focus Sydney! Focus*  
  
Sark continued, "I will kill you, Sydney. Don't second guess that."  
  
**I am your ally, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**You are like a daughter to me, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**Laura Bristow died twenty years ago, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**Irinia Derevko is not to be trusted, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**I'm your best friend, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**I love you Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**You are the prophet, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**  
  
**And in her forth seventh year, all will come unfurled. Don't second guess that.**  
  
Her lips curled into a smile as all these thoughts flooded her mind. "Nothing is ever for certain, Sark."  
  
Sark looked rather disappointed, "May I test if my knife is sharp then? Make sure that is certain."  
  
She glowered, "Don't let me stop you."  
  
He let Anya fall flat. She was clearly unconscious now and didn't feel a thing. He bent down next to Sydney, fumbled for a minute and ran his knife from her thigh to her ankle, "I do believe it is sharp enough." She shout out in pain and felt all of her muscles tighten. Sark acknowledged this with a simple shrug of the shoulders. He groaned as he stood up straight and picked up Anya off of the floor. "And I will ask you again. Spare your life or theirs? Actually, I can spare all of yours. Just tell me where the book is."  
  
"You don't have the guts to kill any of us." She spat in between heavy gasps from pain. She was drenched in a cold sweat and her body was now physically shaking. Why did Sark love to make her suffer so?  
  
He laughed slightly and brought his knife to Anya's throat, slitting it and spraying her in blood. "Wrong." He let Anya's lifeless body drop and began to shout orders in Russian. The lights when out again and all she could do was concentrate on her breath, rising and falling out of her chest. Vaughn's image appeared her in her subconscious. He was saving her from all of this. He dried her tears and dropped her bleeding. He would wash away the blood that Sark had splattered over her body. His tender hands bound her wounds and straightened her hair.  
  
I can take you away from here  
  
So lonely inside  
  
So busy out there  
  
All you wanted was somebody who cares  
  
The bright lights appeared again. She was blinded by the horrible light and the pain had grown more intense from her leg as the cut had attempted to clot and close, "Let's make this quick, Miss Bristow, I have other things to attend to. Where is the book?"  
  
"Get a pen and paper. I'll tell you were it is."  
  
Sark eagerly agreed and pulled a pen and notepad from his paper, "Go ahead."  
  
"Okay. N-O-R-O-M- S-S-A-R-O-U-Y-P-U."  
  
Sark obeyed with the eagerness of a new found puppy, "Alright, Miss Bristow."  
  
"Good, now reverse it."  
  
"UPYOURASSMORON." He wrote below in his blue ink pen. After studying it for a moment, he spoke, "Up your ass, moron? Very clever, Miss Bristow." He sighed in annoyance, "So I'm guessing that you're going to tell me?"  
  
"I guess not." She smirked triumphantly.  
  
"Well, then.let's make a decision, shall we? Your life or his? This is Anya's husband, Boris."  
  
No response.  
  
And Boris was dead.  
  
Darkness.  
  
The lights blinded her once again. She felt her body starting to shake from shock.  
  
"I never got to properly introduce myself." A chilling voice etched across. "I am Paul Mitchell Marx and you, from what I understand, are Sydney Anne Bristow, an agent from SD-6." He walked in from the door and stood over the ailing agent. "Why did you lie to me, Miss Bristow?" She starred blankly up into the white cement ceiling. She kept that image of Vaughn in her head. He was keeping her sane at that moment. She couldn't and she wouldn't let this bastard take control of her. "Don't you have anything to say to me, Miss Bristow? Why you lied to me?" He came closer and closer, "Aren't you wondering how I freed myself? Ah, well, my associate, Mr. Sark, had the courtesy to untie me as he was making his way to his chambers. Ah well. You are beautiful, Miss Bristow." He crept closer and closer to the aluminum bed and ran his disgusting hand up the inside of her thigh, up the barely there hospital like gown. She felt his hands rest on the top on her thigh and drum there for a moment. She cringed inwardly but tried to keep her game face on. She couldn't let this man know how much she detested him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can say yes to this and we can complete the job I thought you were sent here to do or you can say no and I can force you to complete the job I thought you were sent her to do." He was talking about raping her. "It's your choice, Miss Bristow. Let me know. I'll be back." He caressed the inside of her thigh, reaching higher beneath the hospital like gown. And he leaned over and kissed her. She remained emotionless and stopped breathing until he withdrew himself from her mouth. And he left as quickly as he had came. And the lights went with him.  
  
The bright lights appeared again, "Where's the book? You know, their deaths..their deaths are all your fault. You could have spared three innocent people's lives. All you had to do was say the word and I would have let them go. It is all your fault, Miss Bristow." Sark stood behind her and hissed these words in her ear. She started to shut down and blocked the world out. "Your life or Alfred's or the book?"  
  
She was starting to break a little bit, "I told you. I don't have the freaking book. Now, let me and Alfred go and we'll leave you alone. I don't know who took the book. I was after Anya and Boris, not your precious little book!"  
  
"I want that book, Miss Bristow!" Sark finally lost his temper and slit Alfred's throat. The final one was dead. "And now, it's your turn."  
  
Vaughn had gotten up for a moment and retrieved two mugs full of coffee and set one down in front of Sydney. "I still don't understand how you escaped."  
  
Sydney took the mug eagerly in her hands and wrapped her hands around it to absorb some of its warmth. "And I still don't understand how you didn't send in a team to get me!" She exclaimed, almost knocking the mug out of her hands.  
  
He leaned deeper into his worn in couch, Vaughn thought for a moment, "We never received data that Dixon had left the building. We thought that he was down with you. I had no idea or else you know, I would have been down there in a half of a second. I never want you to go through any of that. No person should ever have to go through any of that. But," he paused for a moment as he swallowed, "how DID you escape?"  
  
She placed the mug down on the table and sighed heavily. Her voice was quaking slightly..it was hard enough to tell that much of the story. "After S-Sark killed Boris, he unchained me. Yeah, he actually unchained and wanted to spar with me. But, the cut on my leg," She reached down and pulled up the large sweatpants and revealed a purple, healing cut, with Vaughn noticeably cringing. "it's almost healed but..he wanted to spar and he kept beating the daylights out of me but I took this metal rod lying around and I beat him across the face with. I honestly don't know how I found it or how I hit him with it. But he fell and was out cold." She lost eye contract with him and started to examine a little nick in the wood coffee table before him. "And I check the pulse on Anya, Alfred, and Boris. There were gone and I knew I had to get out of there. I just ran. And that's when I found the truck with you in it."  
  
But she left our a crucial peace of information. As she was running away from Sark, she heard a cry, the male voice that had degraded her early scream out through the silence, "Sark! Get over here! Sark! Did you kill Bristow yet? Damn you, Sydney Bristow!" But she tried to cover that up. Vaughn didn't need to know all about that. "That was probably the ugliest out fit I've ever worn." She laughed tearfully, bringing her hands up to her face. She didn't even notice that tears had begun to fall.  
  
"Yeah, I remembers seeing you afterwards." Vaughn replied sympathetically and moved an inch closer to her. "I wish I could say something to make this all go away for you." He placed his mug down and griped her hand tightly in his. The electricity flowed through their palms into each other.  
  
"But you know, I honestly think it's better that I can still feel this. I think it would be worse not to have any effects from it." She brought her knees up to her chest and clasped her hands in front rather protectively, breaking the connection between them. She knew if she stayed too longer she wouldn't be able to control herself. Sure, she was able not to kill Sloane on a daily basis and could control her instinctual urges to slit his throat, she couldn't control herself when it came to matters of the hear. Her manner changed in a heartbeat, "But, I need to get out of here. It's too dangerous." She quickly got to her feet and made towards the bedroom to retrieve her bag. Vaughn jumped up and grabbed her by the wrist.  
  
"Sydney." He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay there forever. They could forget about SD-6 and the CIA and run away together, with new identities. She could become that English professor and he could be..well, he could just be. All it would take would be one word and he was sold. But that was never going to happen.  
  
She looked his hand clutching her thinning wrist, "Vaughn." Her eyes grew to look like that of a teenager embarrassed my her boyfriend kissing her in front of her parents.  
  
He stood there for a moment and carefully thought about her. She was so weak but at the same time, so strong. She was dying in front of him and all she wanted to do was live freely. Finally, he let go of her, "I'll take you home."  
  
She smile gratefully at him and disappeared back around the hallway, leaving Vaughn to his own thoughts. He sighed heavily and walked over to the couch, burying his head in his hands, concentrating on his breath steadily falling in and out. Donovan was silent and probably asleep in the corner and for just a moment, the entire house was still. There was no woman bustling around in her bedroom, changing into someone else. There was not a man sitting in turmoil in his apartment, waiting for something horrible to happen. It was just a silence that he had forgotten about. The breath came slowly again and his entire chest expanded. He started to silently pray that Sydney wasn't just putting up a front. He would know if she wasn't or at least he tried to convince himself. He was growing more and more anxious. And as he though the peace was finally coming towards her, the door of his apartment came creaking open. This action went unnoticed for a moment but it was quickly recovered. Donovan began to bark loudly.  
  
"Oh hush up, Donnie." Came the feminine voice and door continued to push open.  
  
Every bone an d muscle started to tense up. Blame it on his carefully orchestrated fight or flight reflex. The blood began to pound in his systems and he wished honestly didn't know what was going on.  
  
"Michael, are you home yet?" The voice came again and his eyes were glowing green with panic. Alice was home. She walked into the door, tossing a day's worth of shopping packages near the door.  
  
"Yeah, baby." He manage to choke, suddenly finding his tongue swelling in his mouth. His brain stopped working for a moment and he was incapable of thought.  
  
She walked into the apartment, shutting the door tightly behind her with her hip and smiled broadly at her love, "I wasn't expecting you home for a while now." She was pretty girl, there was no doubt in his mind but right now, the only thought was absolute panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.  
  
And as absolute luck would have it, Sydney turned the corner, dressed head to toe in Jules Tortell's clothing. She had surveyed the situation from the door and had appeared, fully aware of what story she was going to tell and pray that Vaughn would know enough to play along. Jules was gone and a new alias was created.  
  
Alice's face twisted with jealous and rage. "And who's this?" Her attention turned abruptly to the unfamiliar figure standing outside Vaughn's s doorway.  
  
"You must be Alice." She brandished a French accent and moved quickly extending her hand out to Alice. "I am Maggie, Michelle's cousin-na."  
  
Alice's face melted into warmth, "Oh. I didn't know that Michael had a cousin coming to visit-"  
  
"Oh! He didn't! I sup-rize him! And 'is face! Oh! It was so funny!" She walked closer to Alice and kissed her once on each cheek, "But I was just on my way back home. I can only stay for a little bit." She turned away from the girlfriend and towards Vaughn, "Michelle, tu peut aller a l'aeroport avec moi?"  
  
Vaughn smiled inwardly at his beautiful and talented asset, "D'accord, Maggie. Allons-y." He took her arm, kissed Alice in a rather foreign fashion and bolted out the door, "Bye, baby."  
  
Alice sputtered and looked absolutely shocked at the events but obeyed silently. "B-bye."  
  
Vaughn walked down the hallway, Sydney leading the way and the stairs until they reached the outside. Not a word was uttered between them as they made their way into his car and drove away. It wasn't until they were a safe distance away from his apartment that she spoke up, "Just drop me off at the warehouse. I can jog home from there."  
  
He looked towards her with a look of compassion, "Are you sure? I mean, don't you live twenty minutes away from the warehouse by car?"  
  
She looked out the window and starred there for a moment. The sun was shining still and the air was warm and clean feeling. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." She replied simply.  
  
"But I do."  
  
"Well, don't."  
  
He opened his mouth to speak again but promptly decided against it. They had only known each other for what? two years? He knew that as soon as she started to snap that something was going that she wasn't letting onto. She was putting the fence around her again and refused to let him in, "You know..if you need me for anything..please..call me. You have my cell number. If you feel like you're falling apart, I want to hear from you. Okay?"  
  
A simple head turn and a smile was the response, "I know. Thank you." But she couldn't ignore the pounding in her heart or the frantic pace in her brain. She knew it wasn't the last she would think about the mission and honestly knew that wasn't the last time that she would ever hear from Marx.  
  
A/N: Okay, I promise, next chapter we go post AND THE BLUEBIRD MAY FALL. So, if you a little foggy about some of the last chapters and stuff, I suggest rereading it. It could get kinda of confusing. Portia will be back and some correlation between Sark, Marx, and Portia will drive a lot. Keep in mind everything that's going with Sydney and the number forty seven (for additional info about 47, check out alias-online.com..they have an awesome page on Rambaldi and the number 47. All of this take place pre THE GETAWAY, so I will make some references to stuff before hand but keep in mind, next chapter, SD-6 is gone and Sloane is dead. Review, tell me what you think and if you know how to put things in BOLD or ITALIC font, please let me know or else my chapter five will be confusing. 


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